Hotel Love
by starsandstripes50
Summary: Ivan's desperate to show something to Alfred in his hotel room and Alfred's only too happy to oblige. PWP.


**Inspired by a role play with carrots-and-faucet-pipes on tumblr that kinda got out of hand. Basically PWP, there be no plot here whatsoever. Seriously.**

**Constructive criticism is highly desired, but enjoy :)**

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**_Hotel Love_**

By the time they reach the hotel, it's late in the afternoon. The room is bathed in warm orange hues and the curtains are billowing softly from where the occupant had left the large windows open. Although that's all Alfred really sees as Ivan bundles him quickly into his room, large hands roaming over his chest and arms as they proceed to drag him through the doorway. The door slams with dull _thud _and then Alfred is pinned to the wall, crushed by the taller Nation's weight as he begins to ravish him.

Persistent lips are at his throat, peppering kisses along his tanned skin with the occasional swipe of tongue and a nip of teeth. Alfred's eyes threaten to slide shut at the sensations but something catches his eye.

"Holy crap is that a mini bar?!" He ducks under Ivan's arm, catching him off guard, "Wow! See? Isn't my country like, the most hospitable ever hey-!"

The taller male is quick to capture him again, pulling him back by his arm until he slams into Ivan's firm chest. Alfred struggles in his grip because _there's food in that mini bar _ but his thoughts come skidding to a halt as he feels something firm pressed against his backside, almost demanding attention.

"Is that a pistol in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?" Admittedly, Alfred had always wanted to use that line.

Ivan runs his hands down the blonde's sides, resting them on his hips before squeezing them tightly, almost possessively, "Заткнись, иди на хуй" There's a lowly growl to his voice that sends shivers down Alfred's spine.

He falters slightly, "Oh I love it when you talk dirty~" Truthfully, he has no clue what Ivan has said, but whatever it is sounds ridiculously hot and ignites something deep inside him.

He can feel Ivan's lips mouth over his ear teasingly, "I am a patient man Fredka."

Alfred rolls his eyes, "Well good for you bud-ahh..ohh. Y-yeah." He's cut off as Ivan leans down to bite the junction between his shoulder and neck. There's a sharp twinge of pain, but it's mostly pleasure that bursts out in a concentrated spot. Deep in the pit of his stomach he feels a lot warmer and all his nerves are suddenly ablaze and in tuned to Ivan's ministrations. It bothers him that his body is so quick to betray him, but he can't find it in himself to care. It feels fucking amazing.

"Liar," The blond grits out through clenched teeth, "Patient my- aah...ass." Ivan moves away just far enough to chuckle before swooping back in again, abusing the already reddening mark.

Alfred's tongue feels like lead in his mouth. He tries parting his lips to protest but no sound will come out save for a wide variety of moans that go higher in pitch as Ivan sinks his teeth in further.

He can almost feel the Russian's smirk curl against his skin at the sign of submission and with a renewed vigour; Ivan parts his lips and sucks the newly marred skin.

Alfred struggles to stay vertical. The ministrations to his neck cloud his mind and all he can feel is warmth and _heat_ and he wants more. With his knees threatening to give out, he moves his hands to find purchase over Ivan's. His nails sink into the Russian's hands, creating angry half moon shaped marks, as he slowly leans heavier on Ivan's bigger frame.

And then Ivan's grinds against him.

Alfred lets out a startled moan and he feels momentarily boneless, but then he's straightening up and ripping himself out of Ivan's grip, surging forward to force the Russian up against the wall. His back hits it so hard he hears a canvas fall to the floor, but neither occupant takes much notice as the shorter male attacks the other's mouth.

"If we're doing this," He grunts, pulling away only enough to allow words to slip between them, "Then I top."

Alfred pries Ivan's lips open with his tongue, invading his mouth and mapping out every corner, sliding with Ivan's tongue occasionally too. It's erotic and messy but drives Alfred wild. Ivan isn't too bad a kisser, the American thinks.

He can feel Ivan's hands as they move up from his waist until they tangle in his wheat blond hair and he presses back into the kiss urgently, before wrenching Alfred away by his hair.

"Ow what the fuck man?!" The American cries indignantly.

Ivan just laughs wordlessly and grips Alfred's hair tighter, before twisting the American in his arms and switching places. Alfred's face is pressed against the wall, his glasses digging into his cheeks and his arms are held firmly behind his back. The Russian leans in closer and inhales at Alfred's neck.

The younger blond tries to throw him off, to reclaim his position on top, but Ivan's one step ahead and he nudges Alfred's legs apart with his knee, trapping the Nation there.

"Be good for me and stay hmm?" He murmurs, before clutching at Alfred's face, lifting it from the wall far enough so he can reclaim his lips.

The angle is awkward and Alfred feels caged in and as Ivan sinks his tongue into his mouth he lashes out and bites down on the intruding muscle.

Ivan reels away as expected and Alfred shoves at the older Nation, pushing him into the centre of the room, away from that troublesome wall, and then he's on Ivan again. His hands grip his shoulders tightly and he's attacking his mouth, plundering the warm space with his tongue.

Alfred pulls away though; he's tiring of this back and forth tongue wrestling. "You're wearing too many layers." He says huskily, his fingers unlatching themselves from Ivan's shoulders and moving down over his chest, blindly searching for the buttons that will rid the taller Nation of some clothes.

Deft fingers stumble upon buttons and Alfred makes quick work of them, reaching up to Ivan's shoulders again and helping him shrug his coat off before disposing it in the room.

As he moves to rid Ivan of his wife beater, which hugs his figure really well Alfred notes, the Russian suddenly places a firm hand over Alfred's and pushes him away. "Сними одежду." He grunts out, and Alfred watches, a little awe struck as Ivan reaches up to pull his scarf off, almost teasingly slow before tossing it to the side. All the while Ivan remains in constant eye contact; his violet iris's positively _smouldering._

It suddenly occurs to Alfred that they're really going to have sex.

_Hell fucking yeah._

They may have been moving incredibly fast, Alfred never put out after the first date and they hadn't even had one of those! But he couldn't find it in himself to care. There was something in the way that Ivan's eyes challenged the younger Nation; daring him to try something; edging him on. Ivan was rather attractive too, so why not? Part of it was latent curiosity and part of it was pure desire pulling tight in the pit of his stomach. At any rate, Alfred wasn't going to miss on an opportunity to get laid. Ivan was certainly a lay worth boasting about too.

The American hurries to undress himself, all the while latching himself onto Ivan's lips again. This proves difficult when Ivan finally tries to rid himself of his black vest. Tearing himself away reluctantly, Alfred is speechless as the garment slides over Ivan's body.

As more and more flesh is shown, Alfred becomes painfully regretful that he'd never seen Ivan shirtless before. He knew the Nation would have muscle, but seeing it in the flesh was a completely different experience. He can't help it as he drops the remains of his own shirt, which hangs limply open, barely clinging to his frame, as he reaches out to run his hands over the expanse of Ivan's chest.

The muscles gather and stiffen under his touch and he can feel the Russian shudder under his fingertips. A wave of empowerment washes over Alfred and he can't help the slight smirk playing at his lips. Its obvious Ivan doesn't work out, not like Alfred does. His muscles aren't concentrated in a particular area, but rather evenly distributed. His arms conceal powerful muscles in his biceps, no doubt from heavy manual labour. Maybe farm work? They lead down to strong hands, with blunt nails and calluses. Idly Alfred wonders what those hands would feel like on his bare skin.

Running his hands back over those biceps again, and then up to his firm shoulders, Alfred can't deny the twinge of arousal in his groin. He steps closer to Ivan, his hands coming down to rest on his lightly haired chest. It's firm under his hands, much to Alfred's delight. Shifting his hands again, he runs his thumb over a nipple, revelling at the slight gasp Ivan lets out.

The American Nation is frankly surprised Ivan hasn't tried to stop his exploration yet. A quick glance up clarifies that the taller Nation is enjoying the appraisal, if the smirk is any indication. Alfred clicks his tongue in playful annoyance, before his hands are moving again and they're running down his abdomen. His fingers follow the chiselled lines of muscles and he has to crouch slowly to stay comfortable.

Soon his hands aren't enough and Alfred's leaning in closer and kissing Ivan's stomach. His tongue dips into the other Country's belly button teasingly before sliding down the trail of course hair leading temptingly into his slacks.

"You should come to the gym with me," he says earnestly, his hands coming to rest on Ivan's hips, "You could spot for me sometime."

Ivan chuckles darkly in response, "You Amerikan's. Always with the talking. You have big mouth **да**?"

Alfred snorts, "My mouth is a miracle." He tugs hard at Ivan's belt, unclasping it and pulling it free from the belt loops. His teeth at the zipper, he pulls it down almost agonisingly slow. He can feel the heat radiating from within Ivan's pants and his hands tremble slightly at the prospect of what he's going to do.

Reluctantly, Alfred kneels before Ivan as he tugs his pants down to rest around his thighs. Even through his boxer briefs, its plain as day to see that Ivan is well endowed. Most likely bigger then Alfred too, which leaves a bad mark on his ego and a bitter look on his face.

Ivan must have seen because he's grabbing at Alfred's hair painfully again and pulling him closer, all the while inching his underwear down until his cock slips out of his confides and stands hard between his strong thighs. The blond tries to protest but Ivan uses his other hand to hold his mouth open and he draws him closer.

Alfred has no real qualms with this. It's just the degrading manner in which it's happening in he has a problem with. _Bit late for that now. _He's already on his knees in front of the other Nation and so hard he feels a little delirious and all he really wants to do is taste the member standing erect before him. As much as he doesn't want to submit to Ivan, he can't help his hands as they move up and rest around the base of Ivan's cock. He's thick and long and warm and the smell down there is incredible. The Russian smells so masculine, all musk and sweat and Alfred's quick to begin licking a long, slow line up the length of his cock.

Ivan tastes bitter, which is to be expected really, but Alfred persists and seals his lips around his head, easing his tongue over the slit and tasting the precome that gathers at the tip. To his delight, he can hear Ivan moan and the hands buried in his hair flex experimentally. Alfred hollows his cheeks and sucks harder before drawing more of the throbbing length into his mouth. He bobs his head, sinking further onto Ivan's cock, all the while lathering his tongue underneath, following the long vein. The Russian's thighs spasm from the attention and Alfred grins around his cock.

Alfred's thankful for his lack of gag reflex. It brings him great pride truthfully; he knows from previous bed mates that he gives fantastic head. He embraces the lighted headed dizziness he acquires as Ivan pushes himself down Alfred's eager throat and he revels in the feeling of complete fullness in his mouth. The slight asphyxiation only heightens the pleasure and Ivan's moans are a constant mantra playing through his head that do nothing but arouse the American more.

But Alfred's not stupid, he knows his limit and he doesn't want to ruin the mood by passing out around Ivan's cock. He doesn't entirely trust the older Nation enough to let that happen either, there's no knowing what Ivan would do with his body if he did.

He pulls away with a wet _pop _and nuzzles the hard column of flesh, sparing a glance up at the Russian. He's smiling crookedly back, his eyes half masked yet still frustratingly unreadable.

Alfred is about to make a snide remark and perhaps even boast about the amazing blow job, but Ivan's hands secure themselves under his armpits and he's suddenly heaved from the floor and being pushed in the direction of the bed.

"Now woah there big guy!" Alfred protests. He doesn't want to bottom. No way. Not to Ivan of all people. He pushes back on Ivan's chest but it proves useless as the Russian shoves him away. The backs of his knees hit the bed and then he's falling down, tumbling onto the bed as the sheets splay out around him. Ivan's towering over him and smirking and Alfred's breathless. His chest heaving slowly, he's all too aware of how intimate this has suddenly become.

Lying on Ivan's bed, he's overwhelmed by the smell of _Ivan _that lingers on the sheets. It's intoxicating and earthy and entirely masculine. Yet there's underlying tones of sweat and the musk he'd experienced earlier from the blow job too. Alfred wonders what exactly Ivan had been doing in this bed previously. The thought makes him hotter then he'd like to admit.

The bed dips slightly as Ivan kneels over Alfred, prowling over him slowly, his knee sliding up the American's legs until he's pressed firmly against his groin. The blond cries out weakly, his hips moving on their own as they seek friction against Ivan's leg and Alfred closes his eyes because it's all too embarrassing.

"хороший мальчик" Ivan mumbles, grinning as he leans down to seal his lips over Alfred's quickly, his large hands coming down to rid the American of the rest of his clothes.

The blond sighs softly as callous hands skim over his chest and pull the remains of his shirt off and then those hands are at his slacks, palming him through the thin fabric. Alfred's hands fly out to grab at Ivan's back, his nails digging into the skin as he moans unabashedly, his hips jerking at the sudden attention. The Russian laughs at him, watching him so closely that it unsettles Alfred a little.

_Fuck it all. _Alfred rolls his hips hard against Ivan's hand, desperately seeking friction yet, frustratingly denied as the Russian slows his movements. It's agony for Alfred.

"Just touch me already," He huffs exasperatedly, his hips dropping to the bed.

"You are hardly in position to boss me around." Ivan grins against his mouth teasingly, but he complies regardless and suddenly there's a large hand down Alfred's pants and a firm grip around his erection.

"Aw s-shit yeah. Fuck." His words come out in guttural groans as he throws his head back, his heels digging firmly into the bed and his back arching against Ivan.

The blond grips him tighter, his nails sinking into flesh easily and he bucks his hips against the Russian's hand, trying to seek more friction. He'd do anything to alleviate the warmth in his stomach. It's almost too intense to bear. Alfred feels like he'll spill at any moment now.

Almost as if Ivan can read his mind, he begins pumping Alfred, the friction causing overwhelming heat to spread under his skin. "Shit I'm gonna cum-_Motherfucker_!"

No way was Alfred going to cum early. And especially not just by the Russian's hand. Lifting his legs up and around Ivan, he crushes the Russian to his chest and then they're rolling until he's sitting astride Ivan. He has to admit, the view from up there is pretty fucking sweet. He folds his arms over his chest and sticks his chin out smugly.

_Yeah, fight me._

Alfred's victory is short lived as Ivan clicks his tongue disapprovingly and then he's gripping the American's hips tight and flipping them over again. By now the sheets are so twisted around Alfred's legs that he can't move at all and he's helpless as the Russian fists his hair and pushes Alfred face down on the bed.

He's unable to fight back as Ivan forcefully grabs his hips and pulls them up so he's crouched down on his knees, his ass in the air. Alfred is thankful he's facing away from Ivan; his face acquires a brilliant red shade at how easily the Russian contorts his body.

"Hey woah, don't-!" The American argues as Ivan roughly pulls his pants down around his thighs and then his large, warm hands are on his bare skin. He's torn between mortification and being unabashedly aroused as Ivan rubs his thumbs in circles over his soft skin and then spreads Alfred open gently.

Alfred struggles to choke out a protest, his mouth gaping open and closed and so he settles on moaning lowly. He's past the point of caring whether Ivan can hear him or not. Gritting his teeth, he fists the sheets below him, groaning as he moves his hips back, seeking so much more warmth.

He wants Ivan _bad._

Ivan leans over to drape his larger form over Alfred's, holding him close as he nips at the American's ear. Alfred sighs softly as the Russian moves to plant tender kisses to the nape of his neck.

"_Please."_

It's a quiet request, almost inaudible, but the plea still falls from Alfred's lips, much to his own dismay.

"Woah, who said that?" The blond tries to joke, because no way in _Hell _would he admit that he wanted Ivan so desperately.

Ivan stills above him and for a moment Alfred is terrified he'll pull away and mock him for his little slip. He's fully prepared to kick his ass if that's the case. But instead, Ivan chuckles softly and murmurs something into his neck. Alfred can feel a smirk against his skin and he shudders pleasantly.

The Slavic country's hands run down the American's sides, cold against his burning skin, and finally settle back on his rear. Massaging Alfred's cheeks almost lovingly, Ivan returns to planting little kisses along the nape of his neck, until a single finger runs along the crease, brushing over his puckered entrance.

Alfred releases a lowly groan and sinks further into the bed, his knees sliding on the silken sheets.

"Ah-h do that again." The American demands, fisting the sheets like how he wants to fist Ivan's hair. He wants to do a lot to Ivan truthfully. Hopefully this won't be a onetime deal.

The only response Alfred gets is a sharp bite between his shoulder blades and a large finger sliding in dry. It doesn't hurt, but the American can certainly feel it and he clenches around the intruding finger.

Ivan remains frustratingly quiet as he fingers Alfred with such gentle movements; it surprises the North American country. Knowing Ivan's volatile nature he hadn't expected the Russian to be delicate with the preparations. He is a little disappointed to be honest.

To add to his disappointment, Ivan spends an unusually long time prepping him with just the one finger too. The younger Nation is starting to get bored truthfully and was about to protest about the pace when the finger is removed.

"Thank fuck-_ohh_"

Something warmer, slightly thicker and _wet_ pushes its way inside him, sliding against his inner walls lazily and teasingly. It's an unfamiliar feeling but it renders Alfred speechless as it caresses his insides and the American can't help but let loose a guttural groan.

Out of sheer curiosity Alfred casts a glance over his shoulders at the older Nation to watch him, but the sight that meets him causes him to quickly duck his head back in embarrassment.

"That's –ah g-gross." He murmurs, willing himself not to look again. Because he's sure if he continues watching Ivan _freaking rim_ him, he'll come undone from the sight alone. Nobody has ever done this to him before, his past partners had either deemed it too disgusting or it was never brought up.

Alfred risks another glance back at Ivan and is met with teasing purple eyes staring straight back at him. It sends all kinds of pleasant feelings to his groin and he's too hot now, release being so agonisingly close. Ivan quirks a brow dangerously and pulls his tongue back and sucks hard. Alfred replies with a resounding groan.

And then his sinful tongue is gone and three fingers are rammed inside instead. The American hisses through his teeth as he tries to suppress the startled cry that threatens to break loose into the humid room. His teeth ground hard together, Alfred flexes his fists in the sheets, anything to alleviating the burning pain in his ass as Ivan takes his sweet time trying to locate his prostate.

The American clenches hard around those fingers, bucking his hips back. "Come on," Alfred whines, sweat beading on his brow. He grows impatient quickly, as the too large fingers thrust in and out, jabbing his insides painfully and Alfred begins to count backwards in his head, trying to distract himself.

Ivan hums. "If Alfred cannot handle fingers, how can he handle something far bigger?"

"This aint my first rodeo cowboy," He snarls back, hissing as Ivan jabs particularly hard, "Look, do ya need a fuckin' map or somethi-OH. Yeah. Fuck that's it, mhmmm."

His skin feels like its on fire, from his twitching fingers down to his curling toes and Alfred finds himself pressing his hips back onto Ivan's perfectly wonderful fingers that have finally hit _that _spot and caused a delicious heat to spread around his groin. He cants his hips back farther, urging Ivan to press in harder.

Or better yet, remove those wonderful fingers and fuck him raw.

"Want you." Alfred breathes out, looking over his shoulders again to meet Ivan's eyes. They almost flicker back in amusement.

If Alfred gave his situation a proper assessment, he would have been absolutely appalled at how compliant his body is being. It almost begged for Ivan's touch; _anything_ to alleviate the heat pooling in the pit of his stomach. But as it is, Alfred undeniably enjoys his current position. He'll have a chance to top the heck out of Braginski later he hopes, anyway.

The Russian leans over him again, wordlessly, and covers Alfred's lips with his own. The angle is entirely wrong and the American is a little concerned about the discomfort in his neck, but then Ivan's tongue pushes past his lips and he swallows him in with a pleased groan that tapers off into a keening sound.

Ivan's other hand skims over Alfred's behind and under, until he grips the American's sex and pumps him lazily in time to his fingers thrusting against his prostate.

Alfred bucks eagerly into his hand, while steadily pushing back on Ivan's fingers at the same time.

"Ugh, fuck me already." he grunts around Ivan's lips, pulling away to mouth at his jaw.

There's a moment, Ivan regards him slowly with a careful look. An unspoken question but Alfred understands it loud and clear. "Just get on with it." He chokes out, hiding his flushing face in the sheets below him.

The Russian chuckles before removing his fingers wordlessly, and then he hooks his hands under Alfred's armpits. The American lets out a startled sound as he's lifted off the bed and to his knees, his back flush against Ivan's chest. He can feel the swell of Ivan's erection against his ass and he groans lowly in his throat, rolling his hips backwards to urge the Russian into action.

Ivan obliges him quickly, leaning down to nip at the nape of the American's neck as his hands roam down, one settling on Alfred's hip and the other holding his erect cock. Alfred hisses as he feels the blunt head prod at his entrance.

"Just do it already." Alfred bites out, rolling his hips back to try and impale himself.

The Russian nation doesn't give any warning besides a snort, before he slams forward, taking Alfred to the hilt.

"Holy fuck shit balls!" Alfred cries out, his hands flying out to brace on the headboard as the impact of Ivan's thrust catches him off guard.

It hurts. A fucking lot.

Alfred feels like he's being ripped apart from the inside. No amount of preparation could have prepared the American to accommodate Ivan's impressive girth. White searing pain surges from the base of his spine and spreads quickly, causing his body to spasm and convulse, his muscles clenching sporadically around the sudden intrusion. It does little to deter Ivan though and all Alfred's squirming accomplishes is a guttural groan that claws its way out of the Russian's throat.

If Alfred wasn't in so much pain, he would have been incredibly self satisfied with his reaction.

Instead, the American flexes his fists on the headboard, the force splintering the wood as he exercises his restraint. The urge to throw Ivan off is great, but his need to get laid is far greater than the crippling pain he's experiencing.

"Does it feel good?" Ivan smirks into his ear, both hands now resting on his sides as he rolls his hips experimentally. Alfred winces at the movement, almost certain that he's bleeding.

"Fuck no. What are you gonna do 'bout it." He grits out, bucking his hips to try and forcefully make his body more accommodating. Oh if only Ivan could find his prostrate again.

The Russian chuckles against his neck, squeezing Alfred's hips possessively. "Жалость~"

"Is it so much," Alfred grunts as Ivan jerks his hips forward, "to ask you to speak fucking English?"

The Russian Nation merely smiled. "I can move now hmm?"

Alfred nods his head, it still hurts like a bitch but he's eager to get to the good bit already and the American _hates _waiting.

"Good." And with that, Ivan pulls out all the way and slams back in, the momentum causing Alfred to jerk forward, his hands clutching even tighter at the headboard.

"Fuck, go easy man! I'm not paying if I break shit!"

"What a poor host you are Alfred." The American can almost see Ivan rolling his eyes behind him. And he was about to disagree him when the Russian snaps his hips forward again, the heavy weight of his balls hitting the backs of Alfred's thighs.

While the pain was starting to settle to a little more bearable burn, Alfred struggles to gain any pleasure from Ivan's thrusts still and he's practically clinging to the slowly degrading headboard in an ill attempt to remain upright; which means he can't touch himself to try and fix the problem.

"Sometime _today _would be awesome," The American winces, gritting his teeth together "but you know, not like there's no rush or anything."

Ivan clicks his tongue, "Impatient boy." And again, almost like the Russian _knows _what Alfred needs, a large hand skims over his hip and wraps itself around the base of Alfred's cock.

"Well _finally._" Alfred rolls his eyes, thrusting into the Russian's icy grip as Ivan continually thrusts into him.

It feels like a century passes before Ivan pivots his hips in _just _the right way that causes him to hit Alfred's prostrate dead on. The American's not sure whose moan was louder but they both reverberate across the room, making Alfred's ears ring in the best possible way.

"Whatever you do," Alfred pants out, his whole frame shaking and his hands quickly relinquishing their grip on the bed frame in favour of clawing at Ivan's hands in desperation, "Don't fucking _stop_." He pleads, rocking his hips back sharply, fucking himself on the Russian's cock.

"Of course Лапушка." Ivan murmurs raggedly, mouthing at Alfred's neck before sucking at the marred skin and thrusting his hips forward to meet with the blonds' frenzied thrusts. Teeth sink in shortly after and the American finds it increasingly harder to form any kind of coherent thought.

He throws his head back, resting it on Ivan's shoulder and exposing more of his neck, all the while his chest heaving and his eyes roll back as he's completely overwhelmed with sensation.

The smell of sweat permeates the air and the lewd sound of skin slapping skin and loud, unabashed moans, rings throughout the room, driving Alfred crazy and his calls do nothing but encourage Ivan to move faster. Their thrusts rock the bed, ramming it into the wall and Alfred cries out weakly with each thrust, pressing back into Ivan, trying to get as close as possible to the other man.

Ivan growls lowly in frustration and Alfred's given no warning as the Russian pulls out and flips the younger Nation over onto his back. The American whines in displeasure but it's short lived as Ivan grabs his thighs and pushes them apart and up against his chest and then he's thrusting inside again, the new angle even better than before.

"Oh fuck, shit ugh," Alfred keens out, his arms and legs moving to wrap around the bigger male and drawing him closer. He struggles to keep in time to Ivan's animalistic thrusting and soon he feels the familiar coil of pleasure tightening in his gut, warning him of his impending orgasm.

Wordlessly, the American leans up and captures Ivan's lips messily, his tongue dancing inside his mouth as they exchange groans. All too soon though, Alfred feels Ivan's thrusts become sporadic and harder until suddenly he spills inside the American and lets out the most arousing noise Alfred has ever heard.

The American doesn't last much longer after and Ivan coaxes his own orgasm with his hands, thick white ropes of cum coating his hands and both men's stomachs. Alfred's cry from release is cut off as the Russian recaptures his lips in a bruising kiss, his stained hands roaming over the American's body with a reverence that makes Alfred melt.

There's a brief moment of silence between the two Nations after, save for the quiet panting as they catch their breaths again and the gentle petting and light kisses they occupy themselves with.

"Holy crap wow," Alfred groans finally, running a hand through sweat slicked hair as he stares up at Ivan with wide, glassy eyes, "Dang. Can we go again?"

Ivan stills abruptly with a startled noise, staring down at Alfred with an incredulous look.

Alfred snorts, wiggling under the Russian and moaning slightly at the softening cock still inside him, "Geez I'm just messin' with you chillax," He laughs, reaching up to pull the Russian flush against his body, Ivan's heavy arms giving out from under him as he falls on Alfred.

The Russian rolls his eyes and pinches the American's side with a smirk. "Alfred enjoyed it."

"Yeah okay, maybe," Alfred grins, leaning up to press his lips briefly to Ivan's before roaming his hands down and around to rest on the Russian's ass. "But seriously, next time I top, I want some of _this._"

"Нет"

"Better hope for your sake that means yes~"

"No means no Alfred~" Ivan replies with a lazy smirk, pulling out of Alfred's pliant body.

Alfred shudders at the sudden empty feeling, "Well that's an awful shame buddy." The American winces as he struggles to sit up, his backside tender and sore, as he watches Ivan roll to the side and stare back at him, his arms folded behind his head.

Ivan hums, rolling over onto his side and reaching a large hand out to rest on Alfred's hip. "Come here."

Alfred shakes his head with a smile, "Watch out for the side table Babe."

"What?-"

Alfred will forever remember Ivan's face as the American rears back and kicks the Slavic Nation out of the bed. Even though he doesn't hit the side table like expected, Alfred still revels in the sight of a befuddled Russia with amazing sex hair, sprawled out unattractively on the floor.

"That's for almost breaking me- wait what are you doing?!"

Too bad Alfred doesn't anticipate the hand that flies out to grab him and drag him down on the floor too. And too bad Ivan doesn't realise it yet, but the tumble to the floor wouldn't be the only reason his ass would be sore that night.

* * *

**Translations:**

**Заткнись, иди на хуй: Shut the fuck up**

**Сними одежду: Clothes off**

**хороший мальчик: Good Boy**

**Жалость: Shame**

**Лапушка: Little Paw**

**Нет: No**


End file.
